


Yellow Light

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Arguing, Catherine Adams is Dead, Choking, Death, F/M, It Was A Dream, Murder, POV Spencer Reid, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Canon, Reader is Cat Adam's Sister, Sad Spencer Reid, Sex, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Everyone thinks Reader is dangerous. Probably because she’s Cat’s sister. But is that why Spencer likes her?
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Yellow Light

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Reader is Cat’s Sister, penetrative sex, heated arguing, choking, implied/referenced death/murder, panic attack, referenced past sexual assault

——————————————————

“ _Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?_ ”

-Albert Einstein

——————————————————

Metaphors have a bad reputation in science. It’s strange, really, considering just how poetic the field could be. Yet so many men — and let it be clear, that it is predominantly men — share this ridiculous notion that there is no need or purpose for flowery language when it comes to the hard sciences.

But metaphors are not mere aesthetics; they help us put words into abstract ideas, to share the depth of our feelings in a way that literal speech couldn’t capture. For example, I could tell you that I felt an odd attraction and an unsettling familiarity with the strange woman seated in the back of my class, but I am confident that you wouldn’t understand what I meant.

So, instead, I will tell you that she was the Earth’s core. Mysterious molten magma that I could only come to understand through the way the world shifted around her. She was the source of life itself, what was left behind from the collision of ancient forces and chose to begin again. And I was just a compass hand. A brainless fool in the face of a natural wonder, finding my way back to her no matter how hard I tried to resist the pull of her.

That was the only way I could think to describe the situation, to explain how hopelessly devoted to her that my soul seemed to be. The only words that could describe how my mind began to spin the closer she grew to me, and why my hand reached out to meet hers without thought.

“Hi Dr. Reid, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said with a voice that sparked flames where our hands met.

“Wow, thanks, that’s really nice of you,” I muttered back like the smitten fool I was. My heart was so pleased with the smile that it elicited from her that I couldn’t stop myself from begging her to stay. “Are you thinking about taking this class? Because you know there are seats open.”

Her lips scrunched in a perplexed expression that was somehow still breathtaking, for reasons other than the anxiety it caused.

“Oh. No, actually, I... I actually don’t go here,” she laughed, “I, um, I got permission to sit in on your class. I e-mailed you last week?”

The memories flooded back, and I immediately found myself both berating my past self for being so cursory in my original response to the e-mail, as well as for having forgotten that she’d told me she was coming.

“Oh right! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I don’t normally do that!” I couldn’t hate myself for it too much, though, because the humiliation brought along her first laugh.

“I’m really sorry. I hope you enjoyed the lecture, though.”

“I did,” she noted. While I didn’t believe her for a second, having seen her terribly lost (and equally adorable) expression for the past hour, I let it go. I chose to exist in a world where she actually wanted to listen to me talk, instead.

There was something else about her, though. Something that couldn’t be as easily ignored. There was a tension, an uncertainty and anxiety present in wringing hands and rocking feet.

“But I actually wanted to ask you about something else.”

“Sure, I can try to help,” I said, unaware of the disaster that would follow. The way the utterance of just one name would set off a reaction so violent that I feared the Earth would break into pieces in its wake.

“I was hoping you would talk to me about Cat Adams.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, sure that I must have heard her wrong. Hoping and praying that my mind was playing one of its many tricks on me.

But there was no mistake. The second time she spoke her name, it was quieter and less sure, but still just as heartbreaking.

“Um... Catherine Adams. She was a... a serial killer th-that was executed last week.”

“No.”

The word was blunt and unforgiving; hardened like my heart that was desperately trying to bury itself behind anything I could find. Any emotion strong enough to forcibly sever the connection I’d felt for her.

Rage was the one it chose.

“Wh—Wait!” she called as I took my leave with hurried feet that she followed. “Doctor, please! I know that you knew her because of your job, and I read all the articles I could find and—“

“My answer isn’t changing.”

I didn’t want to hear her begging. I was already desperately trying to scrub my thoughts of the both of them. My hands were burning with regret, scorched as my cells worked in overdrive to shed the skin she’d touched.

“I know you probably hate her, and that’s totally fair, but I also know you were the only person she allowed on her visitor list and—“

I could barely hear her over the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I knew logically that my feet were on the ground, but it felt like I was falling through an endless abyss of the worst moments of my life.

Once the door to my office was in my sights, I knew that I would be okay as long as I found my way to the other side. I could trust the metal deadbolt to keep the thoughts at bay, at least for a little while. With enough willpower, I could convince myself this was all a terrible dream that I would never have to live through again.

But then she cried out again, her throat raw and tears warbling the words.

“—you’re the only person who can help me, please!”

A pathetic enough sound that I stopped, turning in place and catching her by her shoulders before she barreled straight into me. Not enough, however, for me to change my mind.

“Listen very carefully: _I cannot help you_ ,” I responded, breathlessly and through my own strained sound, “I’m sorry.”

The apology was punctuated with the echo of my door slamming shut, leaving her stranded on the other side with nothing else. Nothing but her voice, shrill and broken and forlorn.

“She’s my sister!” she shouted. The noise so despondent that it seeped through the grains of wood, filling the space where I was meant to be safe. Then, even quieter, I heard her correct herself.

“She... _was_ my sister.”

And I realized that I was sorry. I was sorry that it had to be like this. That my attraction to her was probably just the byproduct of trauma. That there was nothing special about her beyond her relation to evil. That I wanted to see her again but wouldn’t ever be able to.

I fell back against the door, shrinking onto the floor and covering my face with my hands just to find tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

“Don’t ever contact me again,” I ordered.

I thought that it would make the feelings stop, that I would feel relief in the click of her heels fading away.

But I didn’t. I felt even more alone.

——————————————————

Alone wasn’t a bad thing to be. I’d been it for most of my life. In fact, the longer I spent around people, the more convinced I became that ‘ _alone_ ’ was the safest status.

But there were some days, some feelings so suffocating that they had to be shared. Lately, those days were becoming more and more frequent, and I attributed that misfortune to the fiery mess of a woman who’d forced her way into my heart in a matter of minutes, just to shatter it beyond repair with a simple phrase.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. Cat didn’t know her family and she never would. In a sick sort of way, I’d made sure of that. An even more twisted part of me wanted to take advantage of the opportunity I’d torn from her hands. The thing she wanted most in her life had pranced up to me so simply that I felt it had to be a trap. Cat coming to haunt me from the grave.

I just hadn’t been sure enough at that moment which part of me was more powerful — the logic or the pettiness. But then the answer arrived exactly like she had before, with a bright, unearthly smile that even the sun would envy.

“Dr. Reid! Thank you so much for coming,” she practically gushed, taking the seat across from me with a comfort that contrasted my rigid posture. “I’m truly so appreciative that you are even willing to meet with me, honestly.”

“It’s fine,” I lied as I questioned why I ever agreed to this, “What did you want to know?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I couldn’t blame her for feeling the weight and sharpness of the daggers that made up my gaze. The same gaze that still clung to her like morning glories sought the first morning rays.

“Do you want a coffee first?” she asked, to which I responded with a bitterness far worse than even the blackest drink, “No.”

I wanted to maintain my distance. I needed the escape route that I could take whenever I needed to. Most importantly, I didn’t want to associate something I loved with her. I was already fond enough of her as it stood. I didn’t need Pavlov on her side.

“Okay...” she whispered, and the sound of her voice shaking cracked the ice encasing my heart, “I’m sorry, this must be so uncomfortable. I don’t even know how you knew her.”

“I was the one who put her in prison, and she responded by tormenting me and my loved ones for several years.”

The look on her face would have been funny in any other capacity. Eyes that already contained universes widened to a comical level. Her hand slapped over her face as if to punish herself for forcing me to even speak the words.

“Oh my god. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

But that wasn’t even the half of it. In her usual way, she’d blown a hole in the center of the dam holding everything back. Her presence alone was enough to bring me to my proverbial knees. I hadn’t noticed just how heavy the weight I’d been holding was until I spoke it out of existence, one line at a time.

“She framed me for murder, made me believe that I’d been raped and impregnated her, and then took advantage of those circumstances to try to kill my mother.”

I paid no care or attention to the fact I was simply shifting the heaviness onto her. I didn’t care. I wanted to watch as her legs shook until she was crushed beneath it the same that I had been.

“Spencer...”

“I didn’t say you could call me that, and I’m not finished,” I interjected before she could dare make me pity her, “Years later, she arranged for someone to kidnap my girlfriend’s family so that she could trick me into going on a date with her, which consisted of her forcing me to kiss her in front of said girlfriend in an attempt to ruin my relationship. Which succeeded, by the way.”

She learned her lesson. She sat with a terrified, shocked silence. Her eyes burned and bristled with tears that she was kind enough to bite back.

It wasn’t fair to her, really. But it wasn’t fair to me, either. I wanted her to hurt the same way that I did because it was the only way I would ever have an Adams woman cry for me.

“Your sister was a cruel, sociopathic narcissist that was only capable of expressing her idea of love through psychological torture. She was a parasite to society, and I’m glad that she is dead.”

“I understand,” she tried, only to be immediately challenged again.

“Do you?”

Her response was visceral. I could see the fluttering of her pulse, the discomfort she swallowed. Her hands clutched her purse like a lifeline as she looked away and over to greener pastures. She stared out the window like she would find the answers or understanding there.

But then, to my surprise, she laughed. It was an awkward and nervous giggle. One that definitely shouldn’t have affected me as deeply as it did.

“Coffee probably was a bad idea,” she sighed, reaching the conclusion I could have informed her of at the start.

Something about that seemed so silly, though. Before I knew it, I was doing the very thing I was trying to avoid. I found myself falling victim to her magnetism again, spinning whenever she looked at me with a desire to heal wounds that she’d never intended to cause in the first place.

I smiled without meaning to, and I didn’t hate myself for it, either.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she announced, the words seemingly surprising herself. Any surprise she felt was cursory compared to my own feelings, though.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a freedom I envied, “It’s a nice day. This went faster than I anticipated.”

I wasn’t sure what, but something about her leisurely optimism was contagious. Like the clueless compass hand that I was, I surrendered all sense in favor of staying near her, whispering a soft, broken, “S-Sure.”

(Y/n) said nothing about the way I stuttered. Her smile lessened the sting like the oddest anesthetic. I found myself following her out of the cafe into a universe that consisted of the two of us. Or really, just her. I felt more like an observer, taking in the sights and sounds of her. Noticing the way that the wind carried her laughter and the sun reflected in her eyes.

Before I knew it, an hour had passed. It felt like a dream, waking at the end of a long day without remembering how I’d gotten there. But I realized that I was happy I had.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said with a happy, relieved sigh that I also felt in my chest, “I feel like I haven’t gotten sunshine in so long.”

“You’re welcome. I... actually, surprisingly, didn’t have a terrible time,” I chuckled like it was a joke and not the unadulterated truth. The impossible come to life in the most unlikely of company. “You’re a very good listener.”

“It helps when you have someone interesting to listen to.”

She swayed closer as she spoke, bumping our shoulders together. I wondered if it was her way of handling the desire to hold each other, or if I was the only one who felt it.

“But hey, let me not bother you anymore. I’m sorry again for dredging all of those memories up for you. I had no idea.”

She sounded so sad. So truly remorseful for having met me under these circumstances. But despite the pain it brought with it, I still preferred having met her.

“I think... I think I needed to talk to someone about it, honestly.”

I didn’t just say it to see her smile, although it was a pleasant result.

“Well, I’d love to listen any time, Dr. Reid,” she offered. There was a politeness to it that struck me wrong, a distance between us. An honorific that felt too unfamiliar when twisted on her tongue. 

“Um. About that. You can—“

She looked up at me, so full of hope and life that the words followed so easily.

“Spencer. You can call me Spencer.”

“Okay,” she giggled, “Just give me a time and place… Spencer.”

“I will.”

And I did.

Without fail, each week passed faster with the aid of anticipation. Weekly walks in the park were unaffected by the weather. If it rained, we would bump umbrellas and share in the splashing of puddles. If the sun shined for her, then I would sit in the shade so I could watch the way she leaned into the light.

I fell in love with her just like that, from the sidelines of my own emotions.

It felt wrong, but I didn’t want to think about why. It wasn’t until we found ourselves sharing a blanket in the center of the park. Displayed for the world that would never understand how strange of a sight it was.

She looked up from where she lay, her head resting on my lap as she quietly spoke, “Is something wrong, Spencer?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just...What if...”

I paused, trying to find a way to explain the fears that followed behind me like rolling storm clouds. The forces that made my hands shake when she touched me. The fears that I’d swallowed for months in the hope that they would dissipate.

“What if I’m just clinging to you because you’re the only chance I have at closure?”

Her face scrunched up in the same perplexed expression from the day I met her, and I thought about how far we’d come. Just as quickly, though, I’d dismissed the memory like I always did.

“I mean... isn’t that what I’m doing, too?”

The answer I hadn’t been expecting was somehow the most painful of them all. The idea that she was also haunted by the woman who wasn’t there. That she didn’t actually care for me outside of my connection to Cat. I was too afraid to voice any of those things, though.

Instead, all I could think to respond was a stupid, dumbstruck, “Oh.”

(Y/n) heard the trepidation in my answer. I could feel her eyes scrutinizing mine. She hadn’t been trained to fool a profiler, after all. She’d never needed to be anything but genuine, so that’s what she chose to be.

“But if I’m honest with you, Spencer…” she said in tune with my thoughts, “I haven’t thought about her when I’m with you in a very long time.”

Immediately, a smile burst across my features that she quickly mirrored with her own. I spent the briefest moment contemplating how I’d learned to love my own joy just by seeing it reflected through her before I replied, “Me either.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked almost like a joke.

“I’m not sure,” I mumbled back, carefully shifting strands of hair that the wind had blown astray. I wanted nothing to get in the way of seeing her.

“Well...” she laughed, “We could do this again, same time next week?”

“Yeah,” I laughed back, “I’d like that.”

——————————————————

“Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

The fact that the words were true only caused the smile on my face to grow wider, though it somehow remained bashful. Emily had just taken a seat next to me, and although we were both on a jet flying over 30,000 feet in the air, it was nothing compared to how deeply in the clouds I felt.

“I saw (y/n) yesterday,” I explained. But while the taste of her name on my tongue further lifted my spirits, it had the opposite effect on her.

“Oh,” she muttered in a way that was meant to hide how disappointed she was, “I see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was a soft sound of disproval, a forceful puff of air through pursed lips that clearly couldn’t figure out how to share the thoughts behind them. That didn’t stop her from trying, though.

“Spencer, you know I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world,” she prefaced. It was never a good sign, and that didn’t change now. “But… I just don’t think maintaining that relationship is going to help you accomplish that goal.”

“But I like seeing her,” I whispered more to myself than her.

“Yeah, I know...”

Her eyes found mine no matter how much I didn’t want them to. I tried to avoid the way they tied my stomach into knots and cut off the air to my lungs. Still, I couldn’t stop the words from reaching my ears.

“But what happens if one day you don’t?”

I couldn’t stop the way I hung on each and every word, knowing that they were right but not wanting them to be.

“What if one day you see something in her that you didn’t see before?” she asked, sparing no blow as she continued, “Maybe something you didn’t... want... to see.”

With more bite than intended, I responded too hastily to be taken seriously, “Like what? Something like what I saw in Cat?”

She didn’t answer the question. She didn’t need to. She saw that I already knew in the almost imperceptible tremble of my hands that had turned to fists. She felt the quiet anger that settled behind my eyes every time I knew that I was wrong. She could sense the stubbornness and knew better than to put herself in its path.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” was what she said, instead. Just enough give for me to drop my fists and replace them with a well-maintained shield between my heart and the inevitability of harm.

“She’s not like her, Emily.”

“I understand it feels like that now, but you only just met her,” she pointed out, and I ignored the reason in favor of a luck that I’d never been granted.

“I’m just afraid that pursuing that relationship any further is… dangerous.”

And I almost responded — I almost let the truth of how much I was willing to hurt for a genuine connection manifest in words. But then, as she often did, Emily waited until she saw the desolate desperation in my eyes before she threw her final blow.

“… for both of you.”

A reminder that she was not only familiar with how cruel fate could be, but also with my tendency to forget that I was not the only one that would be caught in the aftermath of my destruction.

Because I was no stranger to pain and suffering, but (y/n) didn’t have to be.

That was the only thing I could think. The loop of a broken record, scratching at every good thought and memory I tried to conjure to make it through the case. And while I made it, it was only achieved with an extraordinary amount of effort.

I hadn’t answered her messages in days. I didn’t feel like myself, and I didn’t want to worry her. Somehow, I felt like it was better to ignore her than to show her how absorbed in the darkness I’d become.

It wasn’t until Tara’s hand was in front of my face, two fingers clicking together sharply to literally snap me back to reality.

“Where the hell is your head at, Reid?”

“What?” I asked before realizing that I’d been staring straight at her without responding for at least a full minute, “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

When I didn’t have any excuse worth giving, Tara flashes a sympathetic smile and shrug.

“No need to apologize. I’ll just keep talking about Star Trek by myself.”

“Oh, wow, I missed that?”

“Sure did,” she chuckled. I appreciated the humor among the storm clouds enough that I shared in the sound. But it was obvious that mine was too pained to be genuine, and I watched as she shifted from friend to professional like flipping a switch.

“Is something bothering you?”

I could have lied to her… but I didn’t want to. I desperately needed someone to talk to about it. Someone familiar enough with my past to understand the war in my heart but not familiar enough to correctly estimate my weakness. Someone only slightly biased.

Anyone who could tell me what I wanted to hear, even if I didn’t believe them as they did.

“Yeah, it was just a conversation I had with Emily.” 

“About (y/n)?” she correctly surmised without missing a beat.

Although I doubted that she needed the context, I provided it anyway, happy to get it off my chest.

“She told me that she thinks it’s an unhealthy relationship. That (y/n) is dangerous for me.”

Then, in a mysteriously cautious and careful way, Tara narrowed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. I could feel her scanning my nervously bouncing body language, searching for an answer that she couldn’t for the life of her find.

Then she asked a question I hadn’t considered.

“Do you feel that way?”

“What?”

A sly, knowing smile graced her lips. She’d gotten the answer she was searching for, but I was none the wiser to its composition. All I knew was that she seemed calmed by the question, and that filled me with an equal relief.

I wanted it to be an easy answer so badly. Unfortunately, life never really worked out that way. It would take work, as it always did. The kind of work that brought titans to their knees.

“Do you feel like it’s a toxic relationship?” she asked like the answer should be simple, “Are you unhappy when you’re with her? Does she bring back uncomfortable memories?”

And in a way, it was.

“No. I don’t think about Cat when I’m with her at all, actually.”

But Tara knew the rest of it. She was acutely familiar with the difficulty that lay behind the two letters, and she knew I would be, too.

“Well, I can see why that would be dangerous.”

I thought she might let it go, recognizing the way I withdrew into myself. How my legs curled up in the seat and my arms wrapped around them. My body begged her for mercy in the few ways it could. But she clung to the very same things as a sign that I needed someone to say it.

“Ignoring her relation to your abuser isn’t the same as being okay with it.”

Was that what I was doing? I wasn’t sure. I could say that she was Cat’s sister, but my mind would always choose to stop at ‘ _she was_.’ There were so many other, more beautiful things that she was. She wasn’t only that, so was it really necessary to acknowledge it?

Could I not put it off? Was I not owed any relief from the world by now? Fate had done enough cruelty. I just wanted to be happy.

“But if she matters to you, if she makes you happy, I’m not telling you that you shouldn’t try,” Tara said, her voice falling away and becoming less confident by the syllable. It was almost gone, hanging on by a single thread so that she could warn, “Just... be careful.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her as I answered, “Yeah, that’s probably good advice.”

Because we both knew that I wouldn’t listen. I was too stubborn, too foolish and too hopeful for a future devoid of the pain of the past. I would keep greedy hands clutched around the woman that I once likened to magma. I would hold tight until the flames of her consumed me and I didn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

“Thanks for showing off your degree,” I joked to rid her of her obligation. 

“You know it’s my pleasure,” she returned with a chuckle.

Behind that sound was another offer, a reminder that when it all fell apart, she wouldn’t tell me that she told me so.

——————————————————

It seemed fitting that the first drink of alcohol I’d had since my brief, regrettable relapse following prison was shared with her. It wasn’t anything hard or overindulgent — just a few glasses of wine that shared the same shade with her lipstick that had almost disappeared over the course of the night. I’d watched it as it faded with a bitter jealousy. Wishing more than anything that I could take its place.

I was so busy inspecting the natural color of her lips peeking through that I barely noticed the playful glint in her eyes as she all but dragged me over the threshold. I clumsily shut the door behind me, stumbling into the darkness with her. Although it was my first time visiting her in such an intimate place, I’d never felt more at home.

“Well, Spencer. You’ve managed to sneak your way into my apartment,” she drawled, her hands pulling me closer by the collar of my shirt, “What do you want to do now?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“How many books do they involve?” she slurred, and I took a moment to appreciate how she never sounded anything but beautiful.

“That depends. How many do you want me to read to you?”

There was no way of knowing where she was guiding us, but it didn’t matter to me. I would have followed her wherever she wanted to go. As long as she maintained that hunger in her eyes and the laughter lacing her words, I would always fall to my knees for her.

“I’d listen to you forever,” she whispered.

She was so close to me that I could taste the wine on her breath in the few centimeters between us. I could almost feel the softness of the lips I’d spent the whole night wanting to share.

“This isn’t fair,” I croaked. 

“What?”

“How badly I want to kiss you.”

_I want to do so much more than that_.

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?” she asked, and I wanted nothing more than to replace the sadness underlying it with her usual overwhelming wonder. But in my head, every alarm was blaring, my thoughts a screaming frenzy of desires that I shouldn’t have given a voice.

_I want to love you_ , _but…_

“Everyone thinks I should stay away from you,” I whispered, “That you’re dangerous.”

“What do you think?”

_They’re right, but…_

“I think... that I don’t really care right now.”

There was no room for regret when my lips pressed against hers. They were so impossibly soft, so beautiful and sweet that I found myself absolutely drunk on the feeling. I would’ve pressed harder, but she did it for me. Her hands on my shirt were relentless, and I provided absolutely no resistance.

My body chased after hers, too afraid to let her slip away for even a second. Even as she pulled us backward towards the bed, my hands stayed on her. I held her as close as I could and I tried to memorize every single thing I could about the way it felt for her to be mine.

When we did break apart, I studied her then, too. I saw how the remaining lipstick smeared just a bit, creating a new shade that was surely shared on my lips. It didn’t bother her — I think she quite liked seeing the way she rubbed off on me. The fact that I couldn’t touch her without her leaving a piece of herself behind.

But lipstick wasn’t enough. I wanted her. I wanted to feel her come apart at my hands and I wanted to put her back together. I wanted us to exchange hearts and feel the way they beat faster when they belonged to another.

“Can I touch you?” she said, softly and shyly.

I was so caught off guard by the fact she’d asked that I couldn’t speak. All I could do was look down at her, chewing on her bottom lip and implicitly begging me to kiss it again. She was staring back up at me with an innocent, doe-eyed stare, hoping that I’d grant her permission to hold me.

It was never a question, but she asked it, anyway.

No one had ever asked me that before.

I took her hand in mine and pressed it against my cheek, reveling in the way it felt to be touched by someone who cared more about my comfort than their desire. To feel safe in someone else’s hands for the first time.

“Please,” I answered, “Please, touch me.”

Her touch was feather light at first, experimentally stroking my erection through my pants and noting how I leaned into her palm. I tried to kiss her, but I couldn’t. My mouth was stuck open, panting out some mangled version of her name.

She stopped, just for a second, and my mind refused to budge from its daze. I felt the pressure ease as she undid my pants, but she stopped before she helped remove them.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” I mumbled back without hesitation, “You’re perfect.”

The tiny giggle she shared was worth any potential humiliation for my blatant display of desire. I wasn’t ashamed of it, anyway. Of course I wanted her. It was only inevitable.

“I can do more if you want,” she teased. I’m sure she meant to lighten the mood, but I was already too far gone in the endless ocean of lust for her. My fingers were desperately spreading under her clothes, trying to coax her into removing them altogether.

“I do,” I panted, “I want you, please.”

There was no more time to waste. She didn’t try to argue, although she did continue to pause every few seconds to make sure that the dopey, lovesick smile was still on my face. If it ever started to fade, she would litter my neck with small, quick kisses until I couldn’t help but laugh.

I’d never been less scared about anything in my life. It seemed impossible, to believe that I could ever stand bare before anyone and not want to hide. But her eyes cradled the vision of the broken man in front of her like the gentlest embrace. Love and affection surrounded her like a halo of light that drew me in like the simplest little moth.

She led us back to the bed, with her arms and legs wrapped around me in a way that didn’t feel like shackles. It was a reminder that I belonged here, wrapped in the warmth and comfort of knowing that someone would always want me.

“Look at me, Spencer.”

I did, fully intending to respond but losing the words the second I saw the glassy but happy eyes staring back at me.

“I am so lucky to have you in whatever capacity you want to offer…”

_I’m yours. Entirely yours_.

“Just let me know if you need to stop, okay?”

I provided her answer in the form of lips pressed hard against hers. She broke us apart with laughter at my enthusiasm, like I’d just done what she would’ve done if it weren’t for the ugliness of my past.

But for the first time in my life, I didn’t care about the past. In fact, I wasn’t sure I could have remembered even if I wanted to.

That’s how much I loved her. I loved her enough to forget for the first time.

“I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life,” I begged. 

“You have me,” she assured me.

And I believed her. When her hand wrapped around the base of me, I gave in to her. I continued to follow her like I always had. I felt her body tremble as it started to envelop me, and I forced my eyes to stay open to watch the way her mouth fell open to produce a new sound.

She was so effortlessly, unrealistically beautiful. Even as she clung to me, her nails digging into my skin despite her best efforts to remain gentle, I felt no pain. I felt nothing but the velvety slickness of her heat. With her back arched and pathetic whimpers pouring out of her mouth, I tried to keep myself composed.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s wonderful,” she groaned with a sly little grin, “You are, as always, unbelievably remarkable.”

Although I laughed at the connotation, my actions were less merciful. Just as I watched the shock and slight discomfort of being stretched fade away, I pulled back and slammed into her again.

I was mesmerized by the way her whole body shook from the intrusion. Like waves of the ocean that I felt like I was drowning in. The love that I felt for her had reverted to its basest form, and I couldn’t have enough of her.

“You’re so fucking breathtaking.”

My forearms caged her in, and I was endlessly entertained by the way she still writhed within my embrace. Her body, still struggling to accommodate me, was barely strong enough to budge me. I took advantage of her eager squirming, forcing her hips to tilt further with each thrust. I didn’t even realize what I was working towards with my ruthless thrusts until I heard it.

“ _Spencer!_ ”

My name tore through her throat like it had forced its way through with blood-soaked claws. She could barely breathe, but she used every bit of air she gathered to continue screaming my name with her face buried into my shoulder.

Her legs locked around my hips, and at first, I thought it was just another attempt to control the speed with which I was fucking her. But then it was like she’d found her rhythm; she raised her hips and began to roll them along with my motions. I could feel every inch of her pulsing around me, _begging_ me to grant her the release she wanted.

It had been too long since I saw her face. Forcing myself as deeply into her as I could, I pulled back and grabbed a handful of her hair. She didn’t provide any resistance, her head lolling back and away from me so that I may bask in the glory that was her lust.

“Spencer,” she whispered so quietly that it was barely audible, “ _Please_ , Spencer.”

“Fuck!” I growled just as my hips snapped forward one last time. I hadn’t even been expecting it, but the sound of her whining my name was apparently too much for me to bear.

Our bodies tensed in tandem, and I spent every ounce of energy not delegated to my current undoing to watch her. To see the way her pupils blew wide, and a strangled cry left her mouth. I carefully studied how her whole body twitched when her orgasm washed over the both of us. The waves of pleasure were shared between the two of us, her body milking me for all that I was worth.

Every part of her wanted me, as I did her. I wasn’t ever worried. I was with her.

It took a while for the silence to return to the room. For a long time, it was just the two of us, relearning how to breathe and exist without one another again. Her eyes were closed, but the calm, serene smile she wore made up for the loss.

“Can I tell you something?”

That was all it took for her to open them again, turning to look at me beside her as she mumbled, “ _Always_.”

“I’ve never felt this way with anyone else,” I explained as honestly as humanly possible, “ _Ever._ ”

Her eyes reflected a quiet understanding. A forgiveness and empathy that managed not to make me feel any guilt. When she kissed me, I fully expected the relief that came with it. Any remaining heaviness lifted from my heart, leaving the two of us floating on the euphoria of safety.

“I think _you_ are the dangerous one, Spencer,” she snickered between bitten lips.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she responded with more seriousness, “When I prematurely develop smile lines, it’s going to be _all_ your fault.”

I turned to her, bursting with giggles. I pulled her closer and tried to find the closeness again.

“Will I get to see them? Will you keep me around long enough for us to wrinkle?”

“You are quite the charmer,” she sarcastically replied. But despite that hesitance to take the question seriously, she kissed me again. Her hands remained on my cheeks after. She sought the same intimacy as me.

“I am... _madly_ in love with you,” I freely admitted. I confessed because I knew it was the truth. I felt it in every fiber of my being, and I wanted to share my soul with her just as we’d shared our bodies. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered through a pure, toothy smile, “But it is late, mister.”

“How am I supposed to close my eyes when that means I don’t get to look at you anymore?”

“I’ll meet you in your dreams. I promise.”

She punctuated the sentence with another chaste kiss that eventually devolved into the usual desperate, animalistic desire that felt inevitable. I caught her bottom lip between my teeth as she pulled away yet again. Instead of laughing, though, she just brought her fingers to my forehead.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered, but I couldn’t hear her.

Her fingertips fluttered over my eyelids, guiding them shut in a way that was far too familiar. In a way that I thought I’d forgotten about.

Before I could even decipher where I’d recognized it from, I was back in the prison cell. I was far away — so _fucking_ far away — sat in front of another woman drowning in a blue jumpsuit and every regret I’d ever have.

My eyes shot open, filled with fear. My lungs were devoid of all oxygen, collapsing in on themselves and leaving me with a dry, burning throat. I sat up just as suddenly, breaking free from any slight remnant of her touch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, somehow sounding even more scared than I did.

“N-Nothing,” I said in a panic, “I uh, I actually need some water.”

She didn’t believe me. That alone might not have doomed us. If she’d just seen me with normal caution and concern, I think she would have tried to help.

But when I looked at her, I knew that she could see it. She saw what I had seen. She felt the full weight of me confusing her for another. The panic I felt was shared between us, and along with it came a hopelessness that felt dire.

“Okay,” she muttered, because what else could she do?

“Hurry back before your side gets cold.”

She let me go, reaching out to a hand that didn’t reach for her.

It was the only way she could think to beg me not to leave, but we both knew that my spot in her bed wouldn’t be warm again for a very long time.

She let me go, knowing full well that I wouldn’t be coming back that night, and possibly a lot longer after that.

——————————————————

There was no avoiding her. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there. I found myself with my hands on her, over and over. Her eyes would burn into me, begging me to do something, anything, so that we could feel. I wanted nothing more than to share the contents of my heart with her.

With both hands pressed against her throat, I thought of how wonderful it would be to watch the light drain away and leave nothingness behind. It was the only way to truly reflect the black hole, the absolute, disgusting abyss of hell that was Catherine Adams.

I’d dreamed of it so many times, but each time my mind would wake me at the last possible moment. I never got the satisfaction of watching her smile shift to abject horror as she realized that I wasn’t going to let her go this time.

Never before had tears pooled in the corner of her eyes, but once they arrived, I was drunk on them. I craved the taste of salt and blood on my hands. I memorized each shade of red, swollen sclera.

I counted the quick, fluttering pats of her pulse against my fingers so that I would notice when they started to fade. The switch was so quick that I almost forgot to savor the last few thready beats. I reminded myself to smile as her lids closed just enough to let the last few tears fall.

I was alone again, and alone wasn’t a bad thing to be.

I basked in the silence that followed, the coolness of the cell that hadn’t belonged to me, anyway. The one that she had put me in, and the one where she would end.

I thought I was alone.

I was supposed to be alone.

“Spencie,” I heard her sing, soft and silly in its timbre. But when I looked down at the corpse by my feet, it didn’t move.

“Pssst,” the voice called from behind me, “Over here.”

As I turned to face her, the first thing I felt was rage. A pure, murderous hatred that apparently hadn’t been quelled the first time. But when I saw her face, curled into a twisted smile that broke open with a cruel-hearted laughter, fear flooded my veins.

Fear for what I would find at my feet. 

“No...” I muttered as time slowed down.

She had found it funny, the sight of the sister she never knew with tear-stained cheeks and bruises shaped like my fingertips wrapped around her like a necklace of my deepest shame.

“Oopsies!” Cat taunted in a hushed whisper, “It’s an easy mistake.”

I shot awake in my bed, acutely aware that it was impossible for me to still hear Cat’s laughter. Yet it was there, chiming and echoing in the eternity that stretched on and on. It filled my room and deafened me to even the sound of my own heart that pounded hard enough to bruise the ribs that barely contained it.

My hands frantically sought out anything to make it go away, to assure me that this world, the real one, was rid of her. I dialed her number by pure muscle memory, bringing the phone to my ear before I ever stopped to think about the consequences.

“Spencer?” 

My voice was paralyzed, my body washed with relief and catharsis so powerful that I could have passed back into unconsciousness from that alone.

“Spencer? Is everything alright?”

She sounded so sleepy, but still filled with a genuine concern for my wellbeing. I hadn’t spoken to her in weeks, and this was how she reacted to a phone call in the dead of the night. With nothing but my name and a hope that I was well.

“Yeah,” the word broke through, “Yeah, it’s fine. I just needed to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to hear yours, too,” she answered with a sigh, “Do you want to come over?”

I pulled away from the phone, suddenly cognizant of what I’d done. Forced to acknowledge that when I woke in a panic, her voice was the only thing I trusted to calm me down.

“It’s 2AM,” I said like an apology. She didn’t accept it.

“I didn’t ask for the time, silly,” she whispered with a little, heartbreaking giggle, “I asked if you wanted to come over.”

I couldn’t let her see me like this.

“No. Sorry.”

I wasn’t her burden to bear.

“No apologies necessary.”

So why did she say it?

“I love you, Spencer.”

Why did she have to remind me of how much I needed her? It wasn’t fair. It was dangerous to want her as badly as I did. The way I needed her was a fatal kind of foolishness.

And though I wanted to say it back, I forced the words back behind the walls that I should have never lowered.

“Goodnight, (y/n),” I said, instead.

She accepted it that time.

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

——————————————————

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

The understatement of the century, and a completely pointless observation from none other than Emily Prentiss.

I wasn’t going to dignify it with a response, opting to continue staring at the endless collection of papers scattered over my desk. They’d stopped making sense hours ago, sometime before everyone else filtered out of the office. But I couldn’t stop staring at them. Because if I admitted to myself that what I was doing was pointless, I’d have to return to the place that no longer felt like home.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not with you, no,” I answered. Emily took the pointed choice of words well, considering the hostility they contained.

“Okay. I understand,” she started. If she’d ended there, it would have been fine. I would have eventually returned to a gentle simmer rather than the boiling before the explosion. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to rub salt in my wound. She had to light the wick.

“I didn’t mean to say that (y/n) was a bad person or that failure was inevitable. It’s not your fault that something happened, it’s just—“

“I said I don’t want to talk to you,” I barked, the words tearing my throat apart with the sheer force behind them, “Did you even hear me? Or am I the only one who’s expected to listen?”

“Spencer,” she warned, but I didn’t want to listen.

“What? What unsolicited advice do you have for me now?”

“Is there anything I can do? Will you let me help you?” The question sounded like a beg. I might’ve felt some kind of sympathy for her if I wasn’t so exhausted. But that seemed like an impossibility.

“I want to help you, Spencer. You know that. I know you do.”

What was she supposed to do? Find a way to rearrange the universe? Wipe my flawless memory of any mention of the woman who shared the same collection of DNA as her? There was nothing that could be done except severing myself from the one thing I wanted to keep the closest to me. The fire I relied on to keep myself warm, the same one that would engulf me if I’d let it. Knowing that I’d wilt without it.

That it would destroy me in the end no matter what I chose to do.

“I know what it feels like to be constantly reminded of some of the worst moments of my life,” Emily said, putting words to my thoughts that didn’t seem fair. 

“We’re not the same, Emily. We just aren’t,” I ground through clenched teeth, “You could never understand how I feel right now, because we are fundamentally different people.”

She was too smart to fall for the anger. She knew me too well to let it go.

“What are you talking about?”

She’d seen the way that my blood was stuck at full boil, threatening to spill out of me in whatever chaotic, violent way it wanted. Just as she’d seen me fall apart so many times before, Emily put herself right in the line of fire, knowing that I had to release the self-hatred before it swallowed me whole.

When it happened, it was just as horrible as I knew it would be.

“(Y/n) isn’t the dangerous one, Emily! _**I am**_!”

If anyone had been around to hear it, I’m certain it would have scared them. It wasn’t often that I raised my voice out of anger. I could only think of a few times it’d ever happened. The last of which was also aimed at her. Except then the sound echoed in prison walls that I almost missed.

At least if I was there, I couldn’t hurt anyone. I couldn’t hurt _her_.

“Can’t you see that? Don’t you get it? I’ve been trying to tell you for years, but you never listen!” I continued shouting, watching as she flinched when I stood and my hands flew through the air, “No one _**ever**_ listens!”

The silence rang in my ears, and I tried to fill it with every thought that hadn’t stopped tormenting me for weeks.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. She is a good person. She is—She’s kind, and patient, a-and funny, and...”

I took a step back. She took one forward.

“…a-and I’m so scared that one day I’m going to wake up next to her and I won’t see _her_. I won’t see the wonderful person I love. I’ll see someone who isn’t there. Someone I fucking _**hate**_.”

I saw it in her eyes but heard it in my own voice.

_Just like you said I would_.

She said nothing, watching with a deep, painful sympathy as I crumbled to my knees. Her arms chased me, catching me as we both hit the ground. She squeezed me harder than I’d ever felt her hold me before. Tight and unforgiving, as if she could steal the pain away from me if she tried hard enough.

But then the residual anger and hatred inside of me shifted, turning to tears that poured from me in wrecked sobs.

“I’m so _fucking terrified_ that I’m going to hurt her,” I whispered into her shoulder that was already soaked with everything I hated about myself. Shoulders that were used to carrying the weight of lives that were too full of loss. 

“Spencer...” she called between her own wavering, “Can I tell you something?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I just nodded, taking a great amount of solace in the way her hands held me down to the earth.

“We’re not as different as you think.”

——————————————————

As I stood in front of her door, I thought back to the first and last time I stood in that very spot. I envisioned the enthusiasm in her arms thrown around my neck and the persistence in her leading me inside. I remembered the feeling of soft lips smeared with the remnants of wine and makeup. I heard her slurred, drunken laughter so clearly that if I closed my eyes, I was there again.

When I opened them, I found her again.

“Spencer!” she yelled with no regard for the rest of the apartment’s inhabitants. She was simply too excited to care, throwing her arms around me just like she was in my memories turned fantasies.

Her face nuzzled against my neck and I felt like I could breathe again for the first time. I held her as tightly as I could without fear of hurting her. Her feet lifted from the ground for just a second before I gently returned her to the hardwood.

“I’ve missed you so much. It feels like it’s been ages,” she whispered, staying close and letting our breath mingle even though it didn’t taste of wine anymore.

She wanted to kiss me. I wished she would, too. Something about her having done it would’ve made it easier.

But she didn’t. The fear of chasing me away so soon won out. She took my hand, instead, tugging me through the door and seeing whether or not I would shut it myself.

I did, but I doubt she noticed. There were more important things to think about. Because as soon as the click resounded through the air, I caught her lips with mine. I let myself relapse in an entirely different way. I threw myself into the relief she provided. The balm of her laughter breaking through messy kisses that could never be enough to satiate me. 

“I missed you, too,” I told her, hoping she would hear the apology behind the words. 

She tried to look me in my eyes, but I wouldn’t let her. I was still too scared she would see the tears burning in the corners and threatening to spill over. I rested my chin on her, closing my eyes tightly the second she left my sight.

“Part of me thought I might never see you again,” she said. 

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s alright. I’m happy you’re here now.”

I counted the colors that burst behind my eyelids that were struggling to keep out any sign of the light. I tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine. I listened to her heart as it gently met mine in the middle.

“Is everything okay, Spencer?”

“It’s fine,” I answered before I could convince myself otherwise.

I kept my eyes shut, hoping that eventually, I would only see her in front of me again. I held her tightly with greedy hands, hoping that eventually, they would forget how to do anything but love her again.

“Everything is going to be fine.”

——————————————————

“ _Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkably difficult to kill._ ”

-Neil Gaiman

——————————————————


End file.
